“Rogue Angels MC doesn’t torture people,” I say sternly. “I don’t torture people.”
“You could just watch,” he says in a musing sort of voice.
“I thought we agreed on the plan. If you don’t?— “
“Calm down, we agree,” he says. “We’re doing it your way. But if you should change your mind, I just want you to know there’s other options… “
Why the hell am I flattered that this gorgeous man is willing to commit murder for me even after I’ve done nothing but reject him since we met? Not just that, but acutely avoided him, even after he saved my life.
“My way will work,” I say and stand up from the chair by the window that I haven’t moved from in hours. “It’s five o’clock and the thing starts at six. We should get ready.”
He nods solemnly and heads for the door, then looks at me over his shoulder, that carefree, mischievous light playing in his eyes. “If you need any help putting on that wig just call me. Or zipping up your dress, or whatever.”
I smile, can’t help it. Even though I really shouldn’t encourage him. I can’t give him what he wants. So I should just let him down easy.
“I’m good,” I say. “The dress only has buttons.”
He shrugs, but keeps smiling. “As with the other one, my offer stands.”
Then he opens the door and leaves. And I’m alone in a room that smells like pizza going bad, wondering why the hell I can’t just be normal. Can’t just be easy-going and flirty.
But I know why. It’s because of the man I’ve come here to put behind bars.
And after that’s done, maybe I’ll be able to do all those other things. Like flirt and have fun and enjoy the undivided, lustful attention of a gorgeous man. That’s my dream, anyway.
But just like so many of my dreams, I doubt it’ll ever come true.
18
Nico
She did somehow manage to stuff all that beautiful hair of hers under the wig, and she looks just as pretty in that dress she picked as I knew she would. Beautiful in that wholesome way. A girl next door rather than a fierce biker chick.
I don’t know which I prefer. Both, I think. And any other version of herself she wants to show me.
But I need to stop thinking about that and focus on the mission at hand. We’re at the community center, waiting for the event to start, but she’s been shaking slightly, and stammering when she speaks to anyone that greets us.
The event has a great turnout. If I had to guess, I’m pretty sure the whole town is here. Which is about a hundred and fifty people including all the children. And which also confirms my suspicious that there is absolutely fuck-all to do in this town.
No one’s asking us a lot of questions. They’re just gawking at us like we’re aliens that just dropped off the moon to attend their sorry little gathering. I’ve been smiling so much that my jaw aches, trying to convince them non-verbally that we come inpeace. And to make up for the fact that Alice’s face looks like she took one too many tranquilizer pills.
“So, why are you here?” a short woman with huge dark brown hair asks. I think she’s had a few too many mugs of the sangria, which seems to be the drink of choice of all the women. The men are drinking beer that they brought themselves in coolers of all shapes and sizes.
“We’re from LA, but want to relocate somewhere quieter and more wholesome,” I say, smiling even wider and ignoring the growing ache in my jaw. “We found your little town quite by accident, but we are really enjoying the vibe.”
She laughs harshly, throwing her head back and spilling sangria on the front of her dress, which is thankfully the same color as the drink. “Come on, this sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere? I’m sure you’d die of boredom here if you’re from LA.”
She’s completely right, I would probably be on the verge of going insane after a week living here. But I’m good at playing the parts I need to play, even when they’re just a lie. Lots of my life was spent doing that, trying to fit in, be part of a life where there was no real place for me. So I just smile wider.
“I’ve been hustling hard for the past ten years in LA,” I say. “I’m ready to take it slow from now on. Plus, this looks like the perfect place to raise a family. And all that nature around here. I just love hiking.”
I nudge Alice to say something too, before I mess up and reveal that hiking in national parks could very well be the last thing I ever want to do.
But she doesn’t react, her eyes fixed on a spot to our left. I don’t even have to look at what she’s seeing to know that the priest has joined the party.
“Nature is overrated, but you got it right about this being a great place to raise a family. We don’t even lock our doorsaround here,” the woman says and extends her hand. “I’m Nancy, by the way, Nancy Cole.”
“Trent, Trent Baxter,” I say and extend my hand. “And this is my wife, Alice.”
